


Below Board

by andveryginger



Series: Deja New [6]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Because Spydad is an Asshole, Double Agents, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Office Shenanigans, RPverse, Secret Relationship, Smut Prompt, Spies & Secret Agents, non-canon backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 08:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16698751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andveryginger/pseuds/andveryginger
Summary: Everyone thinks they still hate each other... that's not entirely the case. She might want to kill him for this stunt, though.





	Below Board

**Author's Note:**

> So when a dear friend submitted a secondary smut prompt, “anything involving secretive brushing of fingertips against inner thighs in public spaces.” The muses mulled this one over for a while, and struggled. In the interim, Keldae managed to cover this one pretty well with some steamy Xaja/Theron fic. So of course Spydad and Mairen had to take up the mantle… just with a different approach.
> 
> So incredibly NSFW… Posted without beta. Smut is not my forte, so hopefully this one meets with approval. Writing these responses over the past few weeks has been quite the challenge!
> 
> Estimating this takes place about 2 - 3 months after the start of their affair, while everyone still thinks they hate each other, and before it becomes public knowledge that they’re together even the hierarchy thinks its if just for power play.

_**Kaas City, Dromund Kaas  
3641 BBY | 12 ATC** _

 

Mairen Bel Iblis, recently recognized as Darth Kas, offered a wry grin to the dark haired agent as he leaned against her desk, the bright overhead light glinting off the streaks of silver beginning to stand out along his temples and over his ears. “You didn’t come to discuss the report,” she murmured, stepping closer.

Reanden Taerich returned the grin, his hands slipping over her hips as she closed the distance between them. He shook his head and her arms slipped around his neck. Leaning in, he nudged her nose with his own. “Your report is undoubtedly interesting,” he began, “but I came to congratulate you on your promotion.” His lips teased across hers. “Not everyday one of our own makes Darth.”

“No, I suppose not,” she said. Her hips pressed into his and she could feel his response as he rocked into her. Her own body reacted, warmth beginning to flood her core, and she hummed. “The fact we haven’t seen each other all week has nothing to do with this little… impromptu visit.”

“Oh, it has quite a bit to do with it.” His hand slipped forward, curving over her glute and squeezing the contoured muscle as he pulled her firmly against him. “Was rather hoping I could distract you for a while.” He nuzzled her jawline, placing a tender kiss in the crease just below her lobe. “Join me for dinner? If we go to my place, I can throw something together.”

She chuckled, emergent sound low and breathy as she tilted her head to allow him better access. “How can I turn down such an invitation? Even if I’m sure you want a taste of dessert first.”

“Hmm… a taste,” he murmured against her skin. There was an amused, sultry note as his voice dropped an octave, the low tone sending a shiver through her. “That brings to mind a very, very good idea.” His lips brushed against her ear as he spoke. “What if I said I wanted to taste you, Mai?”

Mairen moaned. She knew all too well the glorious torture his mouth was capable of and the thought sent moisture flooding the apex of her thighs. Her voice was little more than a harsh whisper. “Oh, Force, Reanden…” she said. “I have missed you.”

“And I’ve missed you,” he replied. His lips twitched just before his mouth sealed over hers, tongues sliding together in an action that foreshadowed their bodies. Breaking away, he trailed kisses along the contour of her neck. “Come home with me?”

“Keep that up and we won’t –” The sound of her office intercom cut her sentence short. Head still canted to the side as he rolled his tongue firmly against the revealed tendon, she swatted blindly at the desk control. A chime sounded, confirming she had opened the channel. “Yes?” she asked. Her voice sounded surprisingly controlled.

The voice of her assistant, Kieryn Prideaux, was thin and metallic over the intercom. “Agent Cotuomo is here to see you,” he said. “Shall I send him in?”

Mairen bit back a moan as Reanden’s teeth grazed her earlobe. She drew heavily on the Force in an attempt to stabilize the adrenaline and arousal soaring through her body and slow her racing heart. She was only partially successful. “Is there a particular reason for his visit?” she managed.

“He suggests he is here to congratulate you on your promotion.”

Reanden’s breath was hot on her ear, a flush beginning to overtake her body. “ _My_ job,” he whispered into her neck.

There was confusion in Kieryn’s voice. He didn’t know, of course, that Reanden was in the office, having slipped in while the younger man was away from his desk. “What was that, m’lord?”

“Nothing, Kieryn,” the undercover Jedi replied. She drew back, flattening her palm against the senior agent’s chest and giving a long exhale. “Allow me a moment to secure my current work, and I will be more than happy to speak with Agent Cotuomo.”

“Of course, m’lord.”

Another tone sounded and the comm was closed. Reanden attempted to draw her closer once again. “Bloody bastard is cutting in where he doesn’t belong,” he groused, mouth angled to once again find the sensitive skin over her pulsepoint.

Gathering what was left of her tattered control, Mairen drew a deep, cleansing breath, stepping back. She felt keenly the loss of his touch, but being spotted in such a compromising position was unacceptable. They were, after all, supposed to despise each other. “Under the desk,” she hissed, gesturing to the expanse between her chair and the floor.

The senior agent grimaced. “Mai –”

“Do you want to be seen here?” She smoothed her hands over her hair, then her robes, her gaze darting to the obvious bulge in the front of his trousers. “Like _that_?”

“Kriff,” he sighed. Shaking his head, he ducked under the ledge, reaching for his belt. There was a snap followed by an electronic hum and his retreating form disappeared with the activation of his stealth generator. Mairen reached down and keyed open the door.

The tall, lanky form of Byron Cotuomo sauntered through the frame. His lips curved into a smile that did not meet his eyes, his arms swinging slightly at his sides as he approached. “I understand congratulations are in order, Darth Kas,” he said. He extended his hand.

Mairen took it, somewhat surprised as he bent at the waist, placing a kiss against the back of her knuckles. “Thank you, Agent,” she replied coolly. She gestured to the chair opposite her desk. “I must admit your visit is rather unexpected.”

“We parted on such difficult terms,” he said. Tugging upward at his trouser legs, he lowered himself into the chair, a movement she echoed a split second later. “I thought this might provide us the opportunity to… mend fences, as it were.” He straightened. “My behavior that night was regrettable.”

“Yes, it was.” She arched a finely manicured brow, the confession as unexpected as his visit. “I am relieved you view it as such.”

“As you might have guessed, Agent Taerich and I have something of a complicated past,” Cotuomo began. “We were rivals throughout training and clearly have very differing personalities. I fear his presence brings out the worst in me – as it did that night.”

There was a soft shift of silk about her legs, followed by the unmistakable sensation of fingertips trailing along the inside of her legs, just above her boots, as her hemline was elevated over her knees. She inhaled sharply, offering a taut smile as she eased forward and perched on the edge of her seat. “Rivals can certainly spark an… intense… emotional reaction,” she said.

“Indeed, they can,” the younger agent replied. “I understand your own interactions with Agent Taerich have been equally as quarrelsome.”

Mairen felt the scrape of stubble against her knee, followed by the gentle warmth of lips pressed against the sensitive skin as the subject of their conversation smoothed his invisible hands over her thighs, her skirts barely fluttering with the movement. She shifted further forward and could almost imagine the smirk that had to be curling across unseen lips. _Was he really going to…?_ she wondered. Her breath caught as he nudged her legs further apart, fingertips teasing against the silken fabric at her center. _Yes; yes he was. Force help her…_

“Quarrelsome…” she echoed. She swallowed as she felt Reanden drag the edge of his thumb down the center of her crease, fingers resting lightly against her inner thigh. The pressure was firm, reigniting the spark that had stirred during their earlier conversation. He traced a circular path over the bundle of nerves. Remaining still was a struggle. “Yes, a-as good a word as any, I suppose. Agent Taerich seems very conscientious with his work… as I am. It creates the potential for quite a… _passionate_ exchange.”

“Passionate? Conscientious?” Cotuomo snorted, shaking his head. “Overzealous, perhaps….”

“Beware the old man,” Mairen countered, “in a profession where men die young – or something to that effect. Most of his cohort died in the line of duty long ago. While we may not see eye to eye” – she paused, struggling to maintain a steady tone as nimble fingers continued their assault – “I must respect his experience. And persistence. Both have kept him alive.” Thus far, she added silently.

“I was under the impression it might be sheer obstinance,” the lanky agent said, rolling his eyes. He paused a moment and the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “All talk of Agent Taerich aside…”

He allowed the sentence to hang for a long moment. She raised her brows. “Yes?”

“I did wonder if you might be interested in joining me for dinner,” Byron continued. “I confess I have… missed your company, m’lord.”

That was when she felt Reanden press her legs further apart beneath the desktop, his mouth descending upon her. He flicked the tip of his tongue in her slit, lapping upward and rolling it against her clit, just above. She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her and she barely contained the moan that welled up within; she was already starting to see stars, her body wanting nothing more than to buck into his attentions. With white knuckles, she grasped the edge of her work surface.

Cotuomo furrowed his brow. “Are you all right, m’lord?”

“I –” Closing her eyes, Mairen shifted her focus, even as the pressure against her slackened, almost to a caress; she felt him nuzzle her thigh. She reached once more into the Force, releasing as much of the arousal as she dared, this close to the Council chambers. Breath moderated, her voice steady for the moment, she looked up at her former companion. “A bit of a… muscle spasm,” she explained. A taut smile twitched across her lips. “While I appreciate the invitation, Byron, I’ve… made other arrangements for this evening.”

His lips thinned, tiny creases curling around the corners of his mouth as the furrow in his brow deepened. “I see.” He cleared his throat. “And if I were to inquire about tomorrow night or the next?”

Cool air washed over her as Reanden exhaled, sensation rioting through her once again as her muscles clenched involuntarily. Kriff, she wanted the old bastard – needed him. “I… I think we both have to realize that our… ambitions… are very different.” She adjusted her grip on the desk, wishing she could instead grasp the dark-and-silver strands she knew lurked just beneath the surface. “Incompatible.”

At this, Cotuomo nodded once, sharply. “Very well.” Slapping his hands against his thighs, he pushed himself to his feet and straightened his spine. There was a flash of anger through the familiar grey eyes, blinked away quickly, but visible. Had she been less distracted, she might have sensed the intensity of it. “Then I will… wish you every success, m’lord, and take my leave.”

Pivoting on his heel, he didn’t wait for her to stand – even if she could have. She watched his retreating form with a mixture of relief and concern, her hand slamming into the door controls as soon as he was clear. The durasteel panel rumbled closed. Almost immediately, Reanden resumed his attentions. This time, his arms curled around her seat, hands encouraging her to shift even farther forward as he flattened his tongue. She knotted her fingers into the thick mass of hair she couldn’t yet see, rocking into him with the moan she’d been forced to bite back earlier. “You kriffing asshole,” she breathed. “No chance of going back to… _that_ …”

His tongue lapped at her once again, as one might a serving of ice cream, before he pressed a full, warm kiss against her apex, her crease, her thigh. “Just what I wanted to hear,” he murmured. His hand slipped from the chair, fingers fumbling for his belt. With another snap and electronic hum, the stealth generator powered down. The illusion fell away, revealing him kneeling between her legs. Hazel eyes looked back up at her, irises blown, skin flushed.

Mairen allowed her lips to twitch. “Need to take the edge off, I think.” His expression mirrored hers as he nodded. Her fingers tightened in his hair and she tugged upward. Reanden rose, his mouth meeting hers.

They stood together, her hands trailing down his body to his belt. Her fingers released the buckle with practiced ease, followed by the button and fly. She then eased her hands between his skin and garments, peeling them back until his erection was free. His own moisture dampened the tip already, his need approaching painful. “Chair,” she murmured and grasped his lapels, whirling him around to trade places.

Reanden fell backward into the seat, then watched as she hefted her skirts to remove the remaining thin, silken barrier. She settled astride him, lowering herself slowly over his length. His shielding wavered ever so slightly and she could sense the mixture of euphoria, relief, and affection peeking through the cracks. “Force…” he whispered. His fingers curled over the crest of her hips, torso craning forward as his mouth sought the delicate skin along the curve of her neck.

Soft curses in _Olys Corellisi_ – Old Corellian – slipped effortlessly from her as he explored her skin, hands beginning to roam. Fingers slipped upward into her hair, grasping and tugging gently backward. Mairen sighed as his lips pinched at her freshly exposed pulsepoint; gasped as his other hand stole over her breast, thumb flicking over the hardened nipple through the layers of vinesilk. Her internal muscles fluttered around him involuntarily. “ _Fermi_ ,” she hissed. “ _Tia… fermi…_ ”

“ _Ven fho mi_ ,” Reanden murmured. His teeth grazed her shoulder, hips thrusting upward to meet her downward stroke. She could feel the tension coiling, pressure building as his body teased against her within and pressed hard against her without. “Come for me, Mai. Want to… see you… feel you…”

The urgency in his voice – the want that radiated through his grip – the extraordinary feel of his length within her – the smouldering warmth of the Force as it swirled around them, singing to her… it was all suddenly too much and yet not enough. Her muscles seized around him, white light blinding her behind eyes tightly closed; her mouth formed a soundless cry. Heat flared deeply within as he thrust one last time and spilled into her. She clenched tighter. A second wave struck her, and she rocked against him, drawing out the riotous sensations that soared along her nerve endings, that carried her along the invisible currents. Her name was little more than a groan – barely coherent – as it passed his lips.

His fingers loosened their hold in her hair, over her hip, smoothing back the long red strands; his kisses shifted toward gentle caresses, tongue soothing the skin where he had marked her. He offered a rueful smile, tugging the neck of her robes back into place. “I would apologize…”

“Not your style, old man,” Mairen replied with a chuckle. “Especially not where Byron is concerned.”

“‘Byron’, is it?” His teeth grazed her lower lip.

She flinched, rolling her eyes even as she kissed him. “ _Agent Cotuomo_ ,” she murmured and nudged her nose against his. “Ready to take me home? I seem to have worked up quite an appetite.”

An impish gleam lit his hazel eyes, and his smirk curled against her own. “I think, m’lord, that can be arranged…”


End file.
